Infinitus
by Sairael
Summary: A bunch of Xovers, one-shots and anything that may strike my muse. Ch.3, HP/CG.
1. Chapter 1

Hi there!

This'll be a bunch of Xovers, one-shots and anything that may strike my muse.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing in the fandoms that I will be writing in, except for the few OCs that I'll create.

**Warning**: unbeta'ed, therefore there'll be spelling and grammatical mistakes. So read at your own risk.

Also, there'll be het, slash or gen themes, but don't worry I'll put a warning if anything is graphic.

**AN**: I am writing for my own amusement. There will be cracks and whatever may cross my mind.

I won't accept any flames, _if you don't like what you read kindly __leave_. But I certainly welcome constructive criticism.

Rated **M** because I'm paranoid.

_**Edited: Feb.**__27_

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><p>When death came, Harry Potter was unprepared.<p>

It was too early, too sudden and without a moment's notice. But what was more worse is the feeling of hopelessness that washed over him as his wife's voice still rang in his ears, pleading with him to remain alive.

He thought that death will come when he was old and lived a fulfilling life, surrounded by his beloved people, assuring them that he was merely going to the next adventure.

He thought that if he died earlier, it would be in a heroic battle. Taking down his enemies with him.

But fate was never kind to him.

And so he died a week after holding his firstborn, little James whom he will never see take his first steps, utter his first words, or experience his bouts of accidental magic.

He died after being struck with a Bombarda. A common blasting curse he used when exploding chairs with the Weasleys. And it was ironic how Avada Kedavra could not kill him and keep him died, but a mere well casted Bombarda could.

Even more ironic is that his killer was some rouge wizard. Certainly none important. Maybe he should have stayed home that day, not obeying his restlessness and strolling around Diagon Alley.

But he died. And he didn't greet death like an old friend.

"Return me", He demanded as soon as darkness fell around him. Whereas he had expected Kings Cross station.

"That cannot be done" a deep voice answered him, while the image of the most terrifying being appeared.

"I owned the deathly Hallows!" Harry cried, useless things, horrible things that he scattered around his world, but he owned them once. Why not return when he had already done so before?

"Being the master of death doesn't permit you to return whenever you die. The first time you died, Harry Potter, you were given the choice, but no more."

Despair filled him, and he let his head fall down on his hands.

"But.." Death said slowly, and he raised his head and looked at them hopefully, "There is one method should you wish to return to this life."

"Anything!" Harry breathed.

"You must live other lives. Continue the eternal circle, until you reach this life again." Death decreed.

Other lives? Countless of possibilities and chances, endless cycle that begins but never truly ends.

"How many?" Harry asked slowly, dread beginning to fill him, "How many until I can return here?"

Death hummed, "Many years. Centuries. Millenniums. Time never matters. You will live hundreds of lives. Meet hundreds of people. Forget countless things. For despite being my master, you are still human, Harry Potter, and you will have the disadvantage of humans that is forgetfulness. Sometimes you will think it a blessing,

Other times a curse. But you will continue on and on and on.."

Maybe death back then was being merciful, trying to dissuade him from the pain that will come. But he was foolish then, hard headed and believing that he could overcome whatever may come, will live thousands of lives and still be able to remember his first resolve. And so he accepted the deal. Even when death's fathomless eyes gazed at him with pity.

"So shall it be."

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><p><strong>II<strong>

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><p>When death came later, Harry Potter was still unprepared.<p>

In his first (or is it second?) life, he was reborn. Awareness hit him like a train when he was four, causing him to drop the pan he was holding for his aunt.

And wasn't it such a warm welcome to hear Aunt Petunia's shrill voice scolding his little four years self for being a clumsy little freak, and how many four years old kids can sit still while holding a hot pan for their aunties? Surely not Dudley Duddykins.

Somehow, he managed to live his first life until the very end. Where he got his wish by having a stable family, with three precious little (but no more) demons. And then he died. But when he arrived before death once again he was bitter, that life was as if it is from a distant dream he could not remember.

His third, fourth and fifth lives were blurry, once he was abandoned by the Dursleys to live in an orphanage, and it was definitely better than living with them. Once Neville was the boy who lived, and he got to be 'just Harry'. Once he died from his cousin's carelessness, when he pushed him into a speeding car and the little bugger was merely eight years old. He hoped that Dudley never forgot killing his poor cousin, but he supposed that was impossible with Dursleys as a family.

One thing he lamented was the lack of his parents. His first lives were similar his first one. Except for the fore knowledge he had when awareness came, and the dying part.

And then it began to change. He wasn't reborn in his sixth life. He was transported. One moment he was trying to tidy his bird-nest hair for Neville and Hannah's wedding, and the next he was blinking at a Malfoy-looking bloke holding his wand under his nose.

In his eighth life his parents lived and he had siblings, that life was so bittersweet.

In his tenth life he was so fed up with Britain, and so he packed his bags and left to explore the world.

His thirteenth life was unlike any previous ones because he got to be a cat. A goddamin cat.

In his fifteenth he was born a squib. And that made him realize how fortunate he was later in other lives.

He bailed out of his twenty life because no matter how mad he was he would never accept Snape as his father, even if he didn't have a greasy hair.

His twenty four life was interesting because he was reborn as a she.

The twenty sixth life was the first time he had a lover other than Ginny or his loyal hand. And it was Blaise Zabini. He didn't expect that to happen but it did.

He went batshit insane in his thirty five life. He couldn't recall the reason but maybe it was something minor like having Voldemort for a brother, but he got used to bizarre things like that later on. Thankfully death kicked his ass to the void and told him to 'solve his issues'.

In his thirty sixth life he somehow managed to be a painting in Grimmauld Place. He made do in trying to out-scream Walburga Black. He cannot remember how that life ended. Maybe the residents finally got fed up with him and burned him down alongside Mrs. Black.

It was the thirty seventh that was the defining life for him. He made a promise to live not for a reason. But simply carry on and enjoy the ride.

He was glad he did because death began to toss him in different dimensions. They didn't care if it was inhabitable or not, it seemed that they were not listening to his whinnying anymore.

He could safely say that death was his oldest companion. One that knew his dirty laundry. _Correction, laundries._

It was around his seventy something that he had the great idea to create a persona for every life that will come. It was fun. And it helped his poor memory. Once he had to be the odd muggle uncle. The crazy seer. And a dark lord, because his morals somehow went downhill that time.

But he could clearly remember some of his lives. If not for the _difference_ in the worlds, then for the people that he met and loved, hated with passion. And maybe killed.

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><p><strong>III<strong>

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><p>"I want to remain here. For a few years." Harry added the last part because death began to get more paler than their usual pale.<p>

But really, he enjoyed staying here. There were a lot of things that he still didn't try and a lot of people who he hadn't met. Like that crazy immortality seeking pedophile. What was his name anyway? Orio something.

"You have used whatever small chances you had for lives, Harry Potter, you shouldn't even be able to do that the first times. You die _when you're meant to die. _You will be unable to return to the same life. But we granted you a few chances because you were a miserable excuse for a death's master." Death said in a flat voice.

"I know, I know! But please, this is the last time!" Pleaded Harry even if he knew perfectly well that it's not going to be the last time.

"I need a vacation." Death said solemnly.

"You can't have a vacation!" Harry said in indignation, "Besides, think of what's gonna happen if death decides to take a vacation! Err.. Over load in life thingies?"

Death replied in annoyance,"I have been working since The Creation, I believe I am more than deserving of a day off."

"Okaay.." Said Harry slowly, while eyeing death's twitching fingers nervously," Who's gonna take on your work? A junior death? Underclassman? Do you even have those? What about me staying here?"

Death looked at him as if he was a blithering idiot,"No. You are capable of doing that. You made that mess, you're going to clean it. Then you'll be allowed to return here in this precise moment."

They slapped a black colored book across his face, and made a dramatic exit from a door that suddenly appeared behind them.

"Git," muttered Harry, while examining the book in his hands. He opened it and saw a creepy looking writing, 'How to do Death's Deathly Duties' was scrawled across the first paper.

The next page was filled with instructions, and they began with:

1. Be Death.

2. **_Don't_** fuck up with _Life_. They're older than you.

3. Tree of lives saves a lot of trouble in collecting dying souls. Plucking the leaves of those who piss you off is unwise.

4. Be in the right place, at the right time in every fucking second across the worlds. Don't worry, you won't split. Unless you have a weak stomach.

5. If you're Harry Potter, stay low and don't push your luck. Lady Fate is willing to give you Days of Grace until We return."

6. **_Do not. Search. For. Us._**

7. This is the last time we'll grant you a wish. We swear it.

"Well, it looks like death can get pissed." Harry said thoughtfully.

He put the book in his pocket, while humming tunelessly as he left the void they were in, he got duties to do now.

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><p><strong>IV<strong>

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><p>Harry Potter thought that he got used to the repeated cycle of lives. But sometimes, in rare moments when the final consequences of his idiocy danced on the edge- <em>buried deep deep down don't think of it<em>- of his mind, despair would fill him. Followed by hollowness so unfamiliar despite knowing it exists.

No matter how many ones he bared his soul to, they all depart. They all _forget_. No one truly remembers who he -_was- _is, none sees _him_, they simply see what they think they're seeing. Only them, those damned death _know him, see him, recall who he was_. Only death. His blessing, his curse.

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Once, he asked death a question he repeatedly asked them in his first lives, 'when will the cycle end?'

In the beginning death ignored him, opting to give him vague answers, obviously not that interested in humoring the lowly ignorant human. But later, when he stopped counting his years, when he ceased thinking himself a human, death answered him.

"_Your_ cycle will end after a week."

Hold your horses, sit back in your chairs, he began this freakin cycle since _forever, _of course he will be done sooner than expected.

You see, the eternal cycle of life is exactly what it means, _eternal_. The original one that is.

But, the _current_ cycle that he's spending at almost a snail's pace, is simply a borrowed time from the original one. The primary one was granted to the beings that used to occupy this world. _Or still occupy it, he never got to see them, damned slippery creatures._ The borrowed time was granted to the humans since The Creation.

Now, when death gave him a certain book ages ago -_ he still has it_- there was a brief mention of how heavenly beings count years_._

The heavenly _days_ are older than your human _years_. In the first millenniums since creation of earth, humans aged between one thousand to ten thousands. They were almost able to follow the heavenly days. Then it began to gradually fall until humanity barely achieved one hundred years. Thus no longer able to follow them, incapable of even thinking above a certain amount of calculation.

One heavenly _day_ equals 50.000 human years.

So when death said a week. They meant a _heavenly week_. Like, 350.000 human years. Yay.

But Harry got something out from that rubbish, and it was the answer to one of humanity oldest questions, 'When does the world end?'

By his estimation, and he was not that great at mathematics, it would take _one _heavenly month_*_ for the world to end. He honestly expected it to end sooner, with how humans -mundane or magical- seem so keen on wiping each other off the face of earth.

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><p>* If anyone is interested, it's 1.500.000 years.<p>

I'd love to have Harry roam the worlds forever, but the idea of a final life is more interesting.

Thanks to all those who reviewed, favorited and followed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

AU? Timeline screw up? Time travel? I dunno.

_Unbeta'ed_

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><p>A Marauder Tomes<p>

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><p>A soft chime rang as he pushed the door, the scent of aged parchments tickled his nose as he gazed at the wide hall, and he briefly wondered how this place managed to remain <em>almost<em> hidden from the residents of Hogsmeade for decades.

His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor and his eyes drank the sight of various books, scrolls and tomes.

"Good evening, young man." A soft-spoken yet firm voice greeted him, and he spun quickly, berating himself for not noticing the presence behind him. A tall, smartly dressed wizard stood before him, his long inky-black hair pulled in high ponytail and hooded emerald eyes looked back at him. The wizard's hands were clasped behind his straight back.

Tom had met many beautiful witches and wizards, and the occasional muggles, but he couldn't help but remaining immobile whilst gazing at the man. The man coughed, his jeweled eyes flashed briefly in an unnamed emotion.

Blood rushed to his face, and he quickly averted his eyes and straitened his posture, and greeted the man back with a calmness he didn't feel. The man smiled, and said smoothly, "Welcome to my humble library, young wizard. Are you here for a specific corner or for a bit of browsing?"

Tom answered cooly; "No, I wish to visit Lord Grim's section." The man, and Tom speculated his age to be from late twenties to early thirties, raised an elegant brow, then jerked his head forward while turning smoothly, "Follow me."

The library hall was divided in four sections, from what he could see, in each section there was a grand statue with a plaque beneath it. They passed by an ancient looking man, clothed in medieval wizarding robes, with a staff firmly grasped in his wizened hand. _Warlock Brian_ was engraved in the plaque. Tom saw many old and tattered, ancient and half faded books and tomes, the place was, simply put, ancient and powerful. He nodded in understanding, this is the grey and light magic section.

The next statue was of a red-headed woman, draped in a flowing modest gown, her plump fingers caressing a single knitting thread, while the rest pooled around the chair she sat on, her plaque stated that she was_ Matriarch Molina_. The aura of that section was warm, soothing and welcoming, with an edge of power hovering slightly over it. This must have been the home-care section, the half-blood witches in his house sang praises of it.

The other statue they've passed was that of a twins with amused smiles, their wands held loosely in their hands. The atmosphere of this section was friendly, slightly playful and full of mischief. Pranks and whatnot, He recalled that the Gryffindor Charles Potter was addicted to the _Twin Foxes_ section, if Dorea Black is to be believed. But what he was really looking for was the last statue, a dark haired man, dressed in traditional pureblood fashion, with long dark cloak half covering a grim that stood menacingly beside him. _Lord Grim, _was written on his plaque. A dark, seductive aura surrounded it, and he was slightly dazed and breathless as his eyes shifted between the bookshelves holding all kinds of dark magic books. He saw an aged copy of _Magick Moste Evile, _next to it was a book he saw once in Hogwarts's library Restricted Section, _Secrets of the Darkest Art._

The man made an impatient sound and Tom startled, annoyance crept in him for forgetting the man's presence, he turned to look at the library's owner, and he was met with a faint frown before the expression was wiped clean. The man rattled off a few instructions that were clearly repeated many times. "Don't touch any book without warding yourself, avoid opening cursed books without supervision, copying spells do not work in this section, rituals involving the need for human body-parts are off-limit for wizards below seventeen..." And so on until he finished with "I'll be in the back room if you ever needed assistance." With that, he promptly turned and left, leaving Tom staring gleefully at the hundreds of books before him, it was pity that none could buy anything from this library, and the last one that tried to steal a book from it was met with a terrible accident that left him a squib, but he will make do with his memory.

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><p>Pre-slash? Gen? Morally grey HP?<p>

Whatever, the bunny committed suicide and I just wrote down its will.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP or CG.

**Warnings:** Canon divergence, typos.

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><p>In 1984 a.t.b , Harold si Britannia is born to Prince Charles zi Britannia and Princess Lillian si Britannia.<p>

Harold was the firstborn to the _now_ Britannian emperor, and -_ in later years _- the least interested of all his children in the battle for the throne.

Princess Lillian remained to hold her child in her arms, then passed away due to her frail health worsened by his birth. Thus the responsibility of the first prince fell on the shoulders of the late Princess's lady-in-waiting, Nina Standstill.

Over the years, Lady Nina noticed that the first royal prince was a quiet, peaceful and a keen minded person. He didn't have the urge to please his father or the previous Emperor of Britannia like his other siblings and neither did he try to establish himself in the Royal household. He never sought to his half siblings for petty fights nor did he attend every ball thrown by the nobles, he was almost never seen expect in the most formal and mandatory gatherings ordered by the Emperor.

In 1998 a.t.b, the previous emperor of Britannia was overthrown, and Charles zi Britannia became emperor and married Empress Marianne vi Britannia.

As soon as the royal prince passed his 14th birthday in that year, he was summoned to the throne to stand before his Royal father and almost all of the Britannian nobility. It was there he abdicated his right to the throne in favor of his half brother Prince Odysseus eu Britannia.

All was shocked and in disbelief of his action, though the Emperor granted him his request, stripping him of all his titles except his right as a Prince for his bravery - _or foolishness_ - to ask such a thing, the Emperor would say so later in amusement to his first Knight.

The line of si Britannia was livid and mortified that their own card in the imperial family was crushed, and withdrew their support for the first - _in name only now_ - prince. Though Lady Nina saw that prince Harold was never bothered by the fact that his mother's family abandoned him, and somehow managed to get a nice villa in the farthest land from the Palace, and lived in a peaceful environment away from the bloodthirsty and backstabbing blue bloods in the motherland.

Although the prince now doesn't hold any political seat and in no need for noble support, he never turned any sibling that came upon his door, he was noted for being the middle - _neutral - _ground between all his half siblings, to the ire of most nobles.

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><p>Schneizel never knew what to make of his oldest brother, Harold.<p>

He was the enigma in the whole imperial family. He was never a mediocre prince like Odysseus, an ambitious one like him nor a narcissist like Clovis and he was definitely not bloodthirsty like Cornelia.

He was always calm and provided interesting subjects to discuss whenever he came uninvited to his half brother's villa, and there was never a dull moment with him, even when they sat in silence and gazed at the glistening stars in heaven, it was always a relieving moment from the stifling atmosphere of the royal court.

Harold was the only one who managed to best him in chess, a fact that always bothered him, and he was almost thankful for his half brother's lack of interest in the throne, for he would have been a very formidable opponent to beat.

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V. V. knew from the moment his gaze fell on his nephew, Harold si Britannia, that he was not to be trifled with. His twinkling emeralds eyes only hid the predatory knowing gaze lurking beneath, and his Geass code always tingled whenever that gaze was directed at him.

_Come closer, _the voices crooned, images of what may and what could be flashing before him, and dread filled him as darkness snarled at him; _thief, abomination, damned. _

The emblem of blood keeps chasing him in his nightmares, and he always fled a mere moments from standing before that abnormality.

When he grew too jealous of Marianne and decided to assassinate her, his actions were met with a dark smile and a threat; "I never liked Empress Marianne, dear Uncle. But I am quite fond of her children."

He was certain that Nunnally vi Britannia was now a useless member of the vi line, and was alarmed when the doctors he specifically chosen for her announced that a miracle occurred and the young princess regained her sight, though her legs could not be saved. He expected no miracles to happen under those conditions, and a shudder went through him when Harold came unannounced to take care of his half siblings, the unforgiving gaze he was unable to meet had him abandoning the idea of completing his crusade against Marianne's children, and leaving to hide in the Geass Directorate.

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Lelouch vi Britannia marched to the Emperor and _accused_ him of abandoning his mother to her death, and went on to renounce his entitlement to the throne.

The Emperor was not amused, and Lelouch's fate was almost sealed when the court's doors opened and a herald announced the arrival of Prince Harold si Britannia.

The prince beseeched the Emperor to forgive the eleventh Prince's foolishness, ill-considered actions due to grief, he reasoned, and asked the Emperor to give him the guardianship of the two children of Empress Marianne.

To the bafflement of all, the Emperor forgave the young prince, and granted Prince Harold his request.

Soft spot for the firstborn, they thought. Or maybe a boon for the least troublesome of the imperial offsprings, they reasoned.

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Contrary to his twin brother may think, Charles zi Britannia knew what occurred at the night Marianne was assassinated.

He planned to banish the two children of Marianne away from the sight of V.V., but then his strange firstborn gave him another alternative option. Charles knows that V.V. is _terrified_ of Harold, although C.C. is also wary of Harold, it was not to the extent of his older brother.

Thus he was confident that his brother would be unable to reach his children if they were in the care of his firstborn.

To this day, Charles never figured out why does the two Geass givers fear Harold, he _does_ have some apprehension of him, an unknown piece in the world's chess game, aloof and avoided from the flow of fate.

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><p>Harold, Harry, Henry or Harvey and other meaningless names he never cared for was amused.<p>

Geass, a bastardized attempt at playing the game of immortality. These mortals never got tired of trying to be something they will never be.

Destroying the gods? Reuniting all humans? He laughed hard at hearing that rubbish uttered by his current shell's parent, and decided to take no actions against the play happening right in front of him, he merely donned his mortal mask and thought that this realm was far too interesting to pass on early.

He will see it to the _very end_.

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